Morning Tears

It is 9 am and I have been up since 5:30 - which is pretty much my norm these days.  I have watched the news, read the paper, tried to tackle the "diabolical" sudoku, made my bed and gotten dressed.  And I sat in the dining room, with a candle lit and meditative music on and cried.

Here is some of what I wrote in my journal
"I am sad, so sad.  Wondering when the sadness will end.
Whenever I stop distracting myself and allow silence and peace to surround me, the sadness just starts to emerge - like water rising after a flood.
It is a beautiful day full of possibility and I sit here and miss my old life.  I miss Chuck, I miss preaching, I miss the work, the worry of ministry.  I miss Audrey.  I miss the mess and chaos.
And I wonder why I am spending money on a silent retreat?  Will it just be me engulfed in sadness......I sit here alone at this table not wanting my daughters  or a friend to be here. .  Who would I want here with me as I cry?  Only Chuck.  He would sit here and cry with me.  He would and I would let him in.

I don't know what the answer is -
To stay and feel deeply the loss of him again
to sit and acknowledge the emptiness of my life
to be in a state of a lack of imagination
I cannot see ahead, I cannot dream a future.  I cannot envision what is next
I only know what is here now - deep grief"

After this I texted Marnie and invited myself to go to camp with her and Addie to pick up Reagan.  I need to be with people.

And then I had an image that came to me - a wounded healer.  That is who I am.  Of course, that is who we all can be.  But part of these tears is starting the day tending the wound before I bandage myself up and go back into the world.

Somehow that made me feel better

Here is a prayer I read this morning in The Cure for Sorrow by Jan Richardson that was helpful

Stay

I know how your mind
rushes ahead,
trying to fathom
what could follow this,
What will you do,
where will you go,
how will you live?

You will want
to outrun the grief,
You will want
to keep turning toward
the horizon,
watching for what was lost
to come back,
to return to you
and never leave again.

For now,
hear me when I say
all you need to do
is to still yourself,
is to turn toward one another,
is to stay.

Wait
and see what comes
to fill
the gaping hole
in your chest.

Wait with your hands open
to receive what could never come
except to what is empty
and hollow.

You cannot know it now,
cannot even imagine
what lies ahead,
but I tell you
the day is coming
when breath will
fill your lungs
as it never has before,
and with your own ears
you will hear words
coming to you new
and startling.
You will dream dreams
and you will see the world
abaze with blessing.

Wait for it.
Still yourself.
Stay.

Six months

It is exactly six months since Chuck left me, transitioned,, passed away, died.
And last night for I think the first time - I had a dream about him.  He was in it twice.  Once he was walking up stairs in an office building.  He had a beard and I tried to talk to him but he couldn't hear me.  And I just shrugged and said - yeah - it is hard to get his attention.

And the second time I was somewhere and I knew I had a choice of visiting him (he was in an apartment) or going home.  And in the dream I thought  that he really wasn't there even though he looked like it was him - but he was dead so I might as well go home.\

This was a very complicated dream with me at a doctor who was going to do surgery on me and this was just a part of it.  But as I write this I think it is my subconscious, or the "dreamgiver" - telling me to let go and continue to live my new life in my home without him.  I didn't cry in the dream, but I am teary as I write this.

Saturday Kacey and Alyse came over and we started getting ready for a big garage sale that will probably happen in late July.  We brought all of his cookbooks up from the basement and did lots of organization and - under her direction - throwing away of materials.  We also went through all my pictures and reorganized them.  And when we were all done we played pounce (nertz to you!)  I continue to reorganize my home and putting pictures in new places and making it mine and not ours.  It really is a metaphor of the change that is going on inside me.

I was thinking today as I was walking downstairs to write this that I can live my life and feel okay and then remember  that  Chuck is gone or  I remember that  I live alone - or remember that I am 70.  Somehow these  thoughts make me sad and anxious.  And if I just "live" I am okay.  I don't know whether this is a process of integrating my new identity or an unhealthy thought pattern to be stopped in my tracks everyt ime I remember these facts.  Maybe everyone is like this - or I am living into my new reality VERY slowly.  It feels like I don't know anything anymore.

Yesterday I drove with Melanie to Camp Christian and we did the" worship in the woods" for six people - including us. I liked it regardless - I like being in the woods and being forced to slow down and just breathe in the wonder of creation, I like doing lectio divina with God's word and I like making a circle and saying the Lord's prayer together and then hugging.  This is what I like so I will continue to do it for the rest of the summer - trusting that  I can find someone to fill in for me when I am on vacation.

Tonight I am going out to dinner with Melanie, Erin, and Audrey.  We four were together when Chuck died and I want to honor that holy evening.  And talk about it.  And have a drink in his memory.  I think rituals help.  I hope so.

Here is a blessing for me today from my book Silver Linings:  Blessings for Shadow Times by Maxine Shonk

May God who knows your GRIEF bless you with the gradual awareness that there is no dying that cannot be tranformed into life beyond imagining.
May God rise and be revealed to you in your loss just as surely as the flower emerges from the dying seed and the butterfly from the abandoned cocoon.
May this ever faithful God be with you and gently stir hope into your grieving.
may the FAITHFUL God bless you.

Gay Pride Parade

I walked in the Gay Pride Parade again.  It has been 5 years since the last time when I was the pastor of Karl Road Christian Church.  And it was wholly different from the past and  there were moments of uplift and inspiration.

The difference was that Audrey and I walked with First Communiy Church, the large progressive church that we joined two years ago.  We continue to struggle with finding our place in this community - it is so large that when I meet people, I may never see them again.  It feels that way, anyway.  And it is  - and I have to say this - LIKE MOST CHURCHES -  not friendly.  People talk to the people they already know and do not often introduce themselves.  So, in the two hours of waiting in Gooddale park for the parade to begin, there was disappointment that we really did not - again - make the connections that we wanted.  And, it is very different from being the pastor when you are literally in the middle of everything and everyone.  As I watched the pastors in attendance working I was not wishing I was still in that position.  I just wished I knew more people.

We got there at 10:15 and started moving at 12:15.  The parade itself started at 10:30 so that can give a sense of how large it was.  The atmosphere in Columbus was just electric.  It feels like a party and everyone is invited.  There was music with many of the groups and it feels like there is just a rhythm going on all the time.  As we walked Audrey was blowing bubble and I was waving a flag and saying "Happy Pride."  Everyone just seemed happy and that has been my experience every time I have marched.  There were two places along the way where we encountered "haters" - that is Christians who are condemning gays to hell based on their reading of scripture.  That really is the reason that I think it is important for churches to march in the parade.  We counter that reading and stand with the LGBT community in affirmation and support.

Erik is the flotilla commander of the Coast Guard auxiliary and he had a booth on the bridge on Rich Street.  It was heartwarming to see the openness of everyone to all kinds of people.  Marnie and Maggie spent the morning walking around and we joined them after we marched.  So, it really was a family affair.

I first walked in the parade about a dozen years ago.  Nicole Bunch and Seth Stout  at Karl Road  put together a group and made all the arrangements.  I remember the first time as I walked with church members and  Marnie and Addie and Reagan and Marnies siblings Eileen and Christopher.  We were consciously  making a statement and supporting Audrey who was in Tennessee.   A couple of years latere I was able to walk WITH Audrey as she came to Columbus for a mission trip and her kids did a flag routine as part of our "float."  It was such fun.

Now this year, it is just Audrey and me.  I am older than ever and by the time it was over I felt pretty darn tired.  It was wonderful to see friends along the way - out of the thousands of spectators they called my name  - and I was able to greet them and  hug them.  It made me aware of the great blessing of my life in ministry that I have had so many different friends.

So it was a day that was filled with a whole variety of experiences in community.  As I live into my current life, I will continue to seek new connections with new people at my new church.  At the same time, I am so grateful for the all the people I have known and continue to cherish in my past church.

Camp Chaplain

Thursday Morning

I have been up since 5, done two loads of laundry and now I sit here pondering.

Yesterday was a good day.  This week I am camp chaplain - whatever that means.  This was Wendy's idea to have one and I am the first one and so, I am literally figuring it out.  It turns out that it means that I am going to camp three times this week to meet with the counselors.  So far I was there Monday and yesterday.  It is a 40 minutes drive each way and I am doing a lot of audible reading.  More about that later.

It is a very small camp - 37 campers and 45 people altogether this week.  It is much easier than the 75 she fed for grandparents camp and there is a greater sense of relaxation for Wendy and Ted.  I came into the room Monday and was surprised to be greeted by a majority of the the very young counselors. Polly, who is the director, had served on the Camp Christian Committee with me in the 90's so I have known her a long time.  At that time she was a very young woman who was a youth leader.   Since then she married and has sons and has continued to serve.

I brought a wonderful prayer that has was prayed at Oscar Romero's funeral and some of the lines were these
This is what we are about.

We plant the seeds that one day will grow.

We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise.

We lay foundations that will need further development.

We provide yeast that produces far beyond our capabilities.

We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that.

This enables us to do something, and to do it very well.

It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way, an
opportunity for the Lord's grace to enter and do the rest.

We may never see the end results, but that is the difference between the master
builder and the worker.

We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs. (counselors and directors, not saviours)

We are prophets of a future not our own.

And we talked about the whole business of planting seeds and God's work with what seems like the little that we offer.  And then I did a prayer of blessing for them as they begin their time together.  It felt like a good beginning.

Yesterday I just came with two questions: what surprises?  what struggles?  And I heard about the surprise of how much brokenness there is for some campers  and the struggles with certain campers and the way girls can be nice one minute and pretty the next.  (this is junior high)  But most of all I heard a lot of conversation and laughter.  They are doing good work and having fun.  I remember it so well as counselor and assistant director.  I did speak about the grief that I heard from their stories of brokenness and reminded everyone that we cannot fix that - but we can listen.  And I also talked about how  much I don't like the word "nice" as much as kindness and compassion.  Apparently some of their curriculum spoke to "fruits of the spirit" which are - in my experience - real and as we turn to God able to grow within us.  Patience and kindness can do wonders.

All in all, this has been a good experience for me.  I go back again tomorrow and I have a reading I will bring and also the question about - what have you learned?  


Yesterday afternoon I was home alone and continued listening to a book - The Black Unicorn by Tiffany Haddish.  She is a actress and comedienne and has had a horrific childhood in which nobody cared for her - - often including the foster homes.  She has a gift for comedy and real grit.  It is a raw book but I felt like I spent the day with her and it was eye opening.  That is the gift of reading.

I leave in a half hour to go to Akron and be with clergy colleagues.  We began our group 5 years before I retired and I continue to meet with them.  It is good to stay connected.

.  I have a lot of things I could do around this house - especially down here in the basement sorting through Audrey stuff and Chuck stuff  and redoing everything.  But it will be there for me tomorrow.  And nobody is here to notice.  (blessing and curse.)

Still getting used to this solitary living.

The Enormous Blessing of Friends

Audrey has now moved out.  As I write this, she is sleeping at her new home.  And my home has gone through more changes.

There is much less Chuck and much more Margot.  And there is - in the living, dining and bed room much less period.  I have less furniture in every room and less stuff on the furniture.  It feels peaceful and with much more order than in the past.  However, there is still a part of me that misses   the shoes I tripped over of Chuck's and the glasses that were on every surface.  And I will miss Audrey's back pack on the floor and her mail and snack wrappers strewn about.   It is going to be different.  It already feels different because now I really am - for the first time in my life - living alone.

And the blessing of my life is that friends remain.  I have three entries yet to write in my other blog "Breakfast with Margot" which recount meals and conversations with special women  in my life.  Today I went to Gena's Restaurant with Trixie and it was good to literally have someplace to go.  I know I am absorbing the loss of Audrey's presence in my home and friends help.

As I drove to breakfast realizing my sadness,  I got a phone call from Debbie who was with another friend, Barbara.  She shared a Psalm I wrote with Barbara and told me they were both thinking of me. What  a gift it is  to have people in my life that touch base with me and to whom I do not have to explain that this grief  - almost 6 months after the loss of Chuck - continues.  It is like waves that come and go and while it is much less dramatic than months ago - the sorrow is always with me.. Even though I do so many activities that I love - like movies, meals, family time.

So, life is hard and life is beautiful and I remain blessed to be able to experience all of it and to have friends who companion me along the way.

Here is the Psalm I wrote - about 10 years ago. 

                                                                         Margot’s Psalm

My enemies are always present and speaking

With seeming authority

And perfectionistic advice

And anxious certainty

They speak words of NO

Don’t….wait…..not yet

You can’t… You shouldn’t….your time is over

There is nothing new to see.  To find.  To be

You need to be Practical

My enemies warn me about losing control

Be careful! You could fail

Or look like a fool

Watch out! You could start a fire

Or release a flood

My enemies come with stings attached

Strings like propriety, normalcy, reasonableness, sensibility, self protection

They bind my body and start to suffocate my soul

And they tell me, This is for your own good.

This will protect you.

This will keep you sage.

And I think I am safe and also becoming dry….and bored….and isolated….and lifeless.

And then I hear your voice

I hear you in early morning hours as you speak your words of love

You come in the noonday sun and show me visions of grandeur

You appear in the night and plant your dreams of possibility

You speak softly and persistently your words of YES

I love you and I have always loved you

You are my beloved

I am awakening your soul

I am igniting your spirit within you

I am filling your life with my light

You can trust me with your life.

You speak and the strings start to fall away

I breathe in the peace you have for me

I move with freedom and dance with joy

I sing the songs you want me to sing

I see the mountains you want us to move

I listen for your voice today

You speak and the voice of the enemy is silenced

You speak and the world is new and life is a gift

You speak and I am free

To be of use

Yesterday was the first "Worship in the Woods" at Camp Christian.  Wendy suggested that we try this and I said yes to making it happen and designed and led the worship.  I wasn't sure how many would come and was delighted to have 12 in attendance - some staff, some counselors who arrived early, audrey, Melanie and me and Wendy.

What I wanted was worship that was quiet, meditative and interactive.  We decided that it would be low tech and so no issues about sound system - just some people gathering at vesper spot to worship God.  What I wanted was to create an environment where people would hear or see God.  So we had times of silence and looking and listening in creation, singing, praying, hearing and "digesting" the word of God and the ritual of communion.  It is what I want when I worship - a sense of spirit and sponteneity and also structure.

While I was there Wendy asked me to be the chaplain for this week and, of course, I said yes.  Soon I will be driving up there to attend a counselors meeting.  And later in the week I will meet with Wendy, the camp director, and Ted  (camp superintendant) for conversation and prayer. As always, I don't know what I am doing, but I trust that my little bit of effort will be graced by God's spirit and that more will happen than I know.

I spent some time this morning looking for a reading to take up to the group and found one called "A Step Along the Way" written by Bishop Ken Untener for Oscar Romero's funeral.  That is not what I am going to share here though.

As I looked through my file of prayers and poems I  found this one.  I don't know the circumstances, through which I found it - but it spoke to me this morning and  here it is.

To be of use

By Marge Piercy

The people I love the best

jump into work head first

without dallying in the shallows

and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.

They seem to become natives of that element,

the black sleek heads of seals

bouncing like half-submerged balls.

I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,

who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,

who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,

who do what has to be done, again and again.

I want to be with people who submerge

in the task, who go into the fields to harvest

and work in a row and pass the bags along,

who are not parlor generals and field deserters

but move in a common rhythm

when the food must come in or the fire be put out.

The work of the world is common as mud.

Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.

But the thing worth doing well done

has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.

Greek amphoras for wine or oil,

Hopi vases that held corn, are put in museums

but you know they were made to be used.

The pitcher cries for water to carry

and a person for work that is real.